


A Summer Cold

by katsudonfemmefatale



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Illnesses, Living Together, M/M, VictUuri, Viktuuri fluff, victuuri fluff, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsudonfemmefatale/pseuds/katsudonfemmefatale
Summary: Yūri wakes up feeling a little worse for wear, but is Viktor really the right person to be comforting him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy one for you this time. Pls note the languages have been added phonetically for euphony. Please correct me if you need to! Translation notes at the end :)
> 
> Setting based off of this apartment design, also used for reference in the anime: http://www.designfather.com/scandinavian-apartment-industrial-elements-architect-denis-krasikov/

The final fragments of his dream fell away like cobwebs, swept gently from his mind, and he entered into consciousness as his other senses started to awaken.  
The first thing he was aware of was the smell of fresh coffee, but instead of savouring the usually welcoming smell, his stomach lurched. The next was the intense light, even with his eyes closed. He tried to blink them open painfully to look at the time on his phone: 7:06. He clutched the white sheets around him tightly as he became aware of how cold he was. He turned, noting the open window and the morning sun spilling into the room, the thin net curtains dancing in the breeze. He groaned, turning back to face the wall, and pulled the pillow over his head. He knew he should be up by now and getting ready to head out to the rink, but that twisting in his stomach hadn’t dissipated, and when he turned his whole body had ached as if he hadn’t just slept soundly in the most comfortable bed of his life (which this was). “Just five more minutes…” he told himself hazily, as everything else faded to black.

There was a tickling at side of his head, and Yūri Katsuki blinked awake at the sensation of a gentle kiss being placed at the tip of his ear and his fiance’s fringe falling on his right cheek.  
“Yūri… wake up, lyubov moya*.” He had fallen back asleep after checking his phone. Usually Yūri would welcome such a gentle awakening, but today all he wanted to do was pull the duvet up higher around his shoulders and fall back to sleep.  
Yūri was usually the second of the pair to wake up. Not that he wasn’t disciplined; being an athlete, he had gotten used to being awakened by the alarm on his phone at completely unreasonable hours and already having started warming up for the day’s training at the crack of dawn. Yūri was convinced that his partner was superhuman, though. Although he would constantly praise Yūri for his stamina, Yūri was always the first to sleep and last to wake, and he cherished the opportunity to lie-in whenever they had the chance. Today was not supposed to be  a day like that, though.  
“Yuuuri… it’s not like you to sleep through your alarm.” Viktor Nikiforov drew out his lover’s name as he looked down at him affectionately, sitting on the edge of the bed. It took Yūri all of his effort to turn his head to look up at Viktor. “Dobroye utro*, sleepyhead!” Viktor said with a grin, then leaned down and kissed Yūri’s cheek. As soon as his lips touched Yūri’s skin, he straightened himself, his eyes widening in concern. “Bozhe moy*! Yūri, you’re burning!” he said, distressed. “I’m freezing”, Yūri said disbelievingly. Viktor placed his hands over Yūri’s forehead tenderly to confirm his suspicions: he was running a fever.  
Viktor stood and quickly moved to the window he had opened after he woke about an hour and a half ago, closing it over enough that Yūri would not feel the cold, but keeping it open enough to air the room. “I don’t know what to do” he said, in genuine confusion. “Do you need medicine?” he asked, searching desperately in his own head as well as Yūri’s response for the answer. “No, I just want to go back to sleep” Yūri said, his drowsiness making his words almost painful. “Okay”, Viktor responded unconvincingly, his face still a picture of concern for his fiance. He stood at the foot of the bed, unsure whether to leave the room or to stay there.  
“Viktor… it’s too light in here” Yūri mumbled from beneath the sheets. Viktor looked around. It was no wonder. Viktor had chosen this apartment for the excellent lighting, and the bedroom in particular, had so many windows that two of the walls were practically made of glass. Now, on this early summer morning, high up in this apartment block in St Petersburg, light was pouring into the room. Viktor moved swiftly to the corner of the room and pulled across the heavier dark grey curtain that was barely used, and after covering one windowed wall, leaned over the headboard of the bed and pulled across the other. He assessed. They weren’t blackout curtains, but the room was now much darker than before, or at least, the light was much softer.  
“Yoriyoi*...”, Yūri murmured. “Gomen, Viktor.”  
“What are you apologising for?” Viktor asked, surprised.  
“About practice…”  
Viktor sat down beside Yūri on the edge of the bed again, but didn’t touch Yūri. He looked so vulnerable and fragile that Viktor was scared he might shatter like glass. “You don’t have to apologise, my Yūri.” he said softly, “I only wish I knew what to do. I’m not used to taking care of anyone but me and Makkachin. Should I call a doctor?”  
“Ie”, Yūri refused, grumpily. “It’s fine. It’s probably just a cold.”  
“It’s Summer!” Viktor retorted, amused.  
“For you!” Yūri grumbled. “It feels like Winter to me. I just want to sleep.”  
Viktor furrowed his brow. “Call me if you need anything, milyy*.”  
Yūri removed the pillow and stared at Viktor questioningly. “Won’t you be at practice?”  
“Net*, of course not.”  
“You should go. No use us both being off the ice.” Yūri said, burying his face back into the pillow.  
Viktor kissed the back of his head, the messy black hair tickling his nose, then quietly left, closing the door behind him.

In the living room, Viktor paced uneasily as Makkachin watched on from the sofa. Yūri and Viktor had been living together as student and coach for over a year now, but only in the past 6 months as a couple. After the Grand Prix Final, they had decided to stay in St Petersburg. It wasn't necessarily permanent; both of them loved Hasetsu so much it would have been difficult not to have factored it into their decision. But having sacrificed so much for him in moving to Japan, Yūri convinced Viktor that it was only fair they spend the next season training from his hometown.  
Melding their lives together had been easy. Yūri and Viktor were already so comfortable with each other that sharing a bed was not a difficult step forward. They liked to share space, they liked to be Yūri and Viktor instead of one or the other. They liked to laugh on the sofa together watching silly tv shows at night, just as much as they liked sitting in comfortable silence reading the news over breakfast. Viktor was used to living alone, but he was not independently territorial. When Yūri had arrived at his apartment for the first time, wide-eyed at the large windows, high ceilings and modern decor, all that Viktor had wanted was for him to fill the space with his things, to make it theirs. It was no longer Viktor's apartment, but Yūri and Viktor's.  
Viktor wracked his brain. What did you do when someone was ill? Viktor rarely got ill, which was a godsend to those around him. On the rare occasion he had been ill in the past few years, he remembered calling Yakov and begging him to look after him. He refused, yelling that he didn't have time to pander to Viktor's whims and that he had other people to coach and that Viktor Nikiforov wasn't the only skater in the world, didn't he know?! So Viktor had spent that time moping about his apartment, a lot of which he spent complaining on the phone to Chris. He was surprised when he answered the door to Mila, who carried a large container of hot borscht sent over from Yakov (he was a big softy really).  
That was it! Soup! That's what you made when someone was ill. Viktor walked over to the large stainless steel fridge and pulled it open, before remembering that he had no idea what he was looking for. He'd never made borscht! He'd never made... well, anything, really. He'd never needed to. Viktor closed the fridge and instead walked over to the closet beside the front door, from which he retrieved his shoes and coat. He pulled them on quickly, then snaked his scarf around his neck before retrieving his wallet and keys from the side table and leaving the flat.

From the bedroom, Yūri heard the front door open and close. Viktor must have gone to training. Yūri had told him to go, and he wouldn't have expected anything else... and yet, he couldn't help feeling the tiniest bit disappointed. Even when he was asleep, he liked knowing Viktor was there. He could sense him. He could tell what he would be doing in the other room.  
At that moment, the bedroom door creaked, and Yūri looked over to see Makkachin nudging it open with his fluffy nose. He padded into the room quietly and jumped up onto the bed, snuggling next to Yūri, providing him with much needed warmth. "Arigato*, Makka" Yūri said, sinking his hand into the curly fur just above his ear to let his favourite spot. "Good boy." And with that, both of them drifted into sleep.

Yūri awoke once again to the sound of the front door. For a second he was panicked, wondering who on Earth could be here considering Viktor had left for practice, but his question was answered soon enough. "ебня*!" Viktor cursed under his breath as his keys dropped to the floor in the living room. Yūri could hear the rustling of bags as Viktor leaned to pick them up, cursing in Russian whispers. After the keys were set on the side, Viktor walked quietly to the bedroom and opened the door softly.  
"Yūri? Are you awake?" he whispered, entering the room. "Hai*. What are you doing back?" Yūri looked around in the dim light to the blurry image of his fiancé stood at the edge of the bed, but quickly decided he needed his glasses. His left hand searched the side table and found them, fumbling to put them on his face. As the view of Viktor became clearer, Yūri became confused. Viktor was stood at the bottom of the bed, coat and scarf still on, his hair sticking out in all directions, his arms overloaded with bags.  
"What happened to you?" He asked, the question tinged with amusement at the sight in front of him. "I had to run to so many places to get everything I needed!" Viktor answered. "Everything you nee-?" Yūri's question began, but before he could finish Viktor was upturning the bags onto the bed, spilling out the contents. Apparently, Viktor had robbed a pharmacy. He couldn't read the unfamiliar Russian, but Yūri recognised some of the brands. There were painkillers, cough syrups, orange juice, tissues, throat lozenges, echinacea, antacids, anti-inflammatories, a gel pack, berocca, hand sanitiser, mints, a digital thermometer, vapor rub, and for some reason... bandages? Yūri looked up at Viktor, puzzled. "I just wanted to cover all bases", Viktor said, and Yūri smiled.  
"Thank you. Maybe just the painkillers and the gel pack for now, though." He said, sitting up.  
"Of course."  
Viktor quickly cleared everything from the bed and popped out two paracetamol into his hand. He raised it to Yūri's mouth to allow him to take them, then unscrewed the orange juice, passing it to him to chase the bitter pills. Yūri removed his glasses and laid back down with a sigh. Viktor took the glasses from his hand and folded them, before carefully placing them on the table next to Yūri's phone. He placed the gel pack to his head, noting that Yūri's cheeks were still flushed pink from fever.  
"Sleep now, lyubov moya." 

Yūri shifted uncomfortably in bed. He had gone from being freezing this morning to being unbearably hot now, and awakening, he noted his t shirt was damp with sweat. He pulled it off and sat up in the bed. He no longer felt achy and queasy, but now felt a little weak, a slight headache pressing into his temples. He needed the loo.  
He got up, a little unsteadily, pulled on some sweatpants and pushed on his glasses. He rubbed the back of his head and yawned as he opened the door.  
A cacophony of smells hit him as the bedroom door opened. Sautéed onions... and something sour... and was that beetroot? The radio was on quietly in the kitchen, and Yūri could hear a peppy young girl singing in Russian. He turned his head and walked toward the kitchen, completely unprepared for what he would see next. There, in the middle of their kitchen, singing along under his breath to the music and chopping dill, was Viktor Nikiforov... in an apron.  
He looked up, and had to do a double take, not expecting his fiancé to be stood there.  
"Yūri! What are you doing out of bed?!" He demanded, rushing over to him and putting his hands on his shoulders. "I just needed the toilet... what are you doing?"  
Viktor whipped his head around as Yūri peered over his shoulder at the kitchen. "I'm making you borscht!"  
"You're... making borscht?"  
"Yes."  
"You're... cooking?"  
"Yes!"  
In the last six months, Yūri had seen Viktor do no more in the kitchen than make toast, fry ham and heat things in the oven if necessary. They almost always ate out or brought meals in after practice, and Yūri had cooked a couple of times as well at Viktor's insistence (Japanese cuisine not being an easy thing to come by in Russia). That was not to say that the sight in front of him was not welcome, however. Viktor had looked incredibly cute, deep in concentration when Yūri had entered, and the apron was doing all sorts of things for him that Yūri couldn't think about right now.  
"How are you feeling?"  
"A little better. Headache. Hot."  
"You go to the bathroom. I will get you some water and another gel pack" Viktor said, and pressed a kiss to his head.

"Are you going back to bed?" Viktor called as Yūri exited the bathroom.  
"Ie, i slept for so long. I just want to be out here for a while." He responded, making his way to the sofa. Viktor reached Yūri before he sat down and wrapped the large blue and white chevron print blanket around him before putting a cold bottle of water on the side table. "Spasibo*" Yūri said, flexing his Russian. Viktor's smile spread across his face. "Otlichno*, very good, my Yūri!"  
Yūri sat down, sprawling his legs out on the sofa. "Would you like to eat?"  
"Yes, thank you." He said gratefully, aware of his hunger now the nausea had passed.  
Viktor retreated to the kitchen and returned with two cream bowls, filled to the brim with the vibrant red soup. He passed one to Yūri along with a spoon, which he took gratefully, and raised his legs so that Viktor could sit next to him. Once seated, Viktor pulled Yūri's legs back into his lap, determined that his fiancé be as comfortable as possible. They ate in silence for a few moments.  
"Amazing!" Yūri exclaimed.  
Viktor looked up, shocked. "Really?"  
"Hai! Subarashi*! You should cook more, Viktor!"  
"Maybe I will, lyubov moya." Viktor smiled.

Their hunger sated and bowls sitting empty on the tables flanking the sofa, Yūri turned on the sofa to put his head in Viktor's lap instead of his legs. The evening sun was glowing warmly through the windows, and Yūri's fiancé gazed down at him, gently brushing the hair away from his face and running his long fingers through Yūri's growing hair. Yūri looked up at him pensively.  
"What are you thinking, my Yūri?"  
"That you're amazing."  
"I've never had to look after someone before."  
"You did it very well."  
They smiled at each other. Viktor leaned down and pulled Yūri into a long and gentle kiss.  
"Viktor, what if you get ill?"  
"It will have been worth it."

**Author's Note:**

> Lyubov moya - my love (R)  
> Dobroye utro - wake up (R)  
> Bozhe moy - my God (R)  
> Ie - no (J)  
> Yoriyoi - better (J)  
> Milyy - dear/darling (R)  
> Net - no (R)  
> Arigato - thank you (J)  
> ебня - fuck (R)  
> Hai - yes (J)  
> Spasibo - thank you (R)  
> Otlichno - very good (R)  
> Subarashi - amazing (J)


End file.
